


Blood Love

by anonymouswill



Category: Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare, Shadowhunters (TV), The Mortal Instruments (Movies)
Genre: M/M, Saphael, Simon and Raphael
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-29
Updated: 2016-05-04
Packaged: 2018-06-05 05:57:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6692314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anonymouswill/pseuds/anonymouswill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The love life of Simon and Raphael since his turning.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Title: Blood Love  
Chapter 1: Rebirth  
Genre: Romance/Horror/Fantasy

 

* * *

 

Darkness surrounds Simon. Fear and panic surges within himself. And hunger, a specific thirst for something unimaginable.  
He slowly glides his arm through the boundless darkness, and feels the distinct sensation of the earth. Soil. An abundance of it. Below him, Beside him. And… Above him.

"Oh shit," he mutters shakily. A myriad of questions overflows from his mind. Did the vampires do this?

Focusing his attention, he attempts to recall the final memories before being entombed alive. He traces his journey back to Hotel Dumort, where he remembered he needed answers. About these symptoms. He wanted to know, if he had become, one of them.

A sharp pain suddenly burns through his head, as he remembers how the parasitic monsters tore him apart, without even a slight hint of mercy. He remembers his fading life excruciatingly leaving his body. And he remembers, a silhouette slipping out of the shivering shadows, pulling him out of oblivion.

 

Raphael Santiago.

 

An even sharper pain stabs Simon in his gut. Hunger, and thirst. His mind spins without direction, command of his limbs cripples.

"I will not die here!" He yells in defiance. Ripping through the soil, Simon desperately climbs to escape his apparent prison to save himself, and quench his swelling thirst.

Finally, his left hand rips into the cool night air. Then his right hand. And his head. He opens his eyes to view his surroundings. Instead, he sees a three silhouettes. One with evidently no life, and two with pursing red and golden energy within them.  
He craves it. The energy within them. He crawls out of the ground, and promptly darts towards them.

 

"Stop!" A voice rings into his ears and the dead silhouette tackles him to the ground, locking Simon between his legs and on his back.  
"Open," the same voice gently speaks, despite his previous action, and pours something down his burning throat. Simon feels his body calming, his sanity materialising, and his vision clearing. In front of him was Raphael, sitting on his stomach, holding a packet of luxurious red liquid.

 

"W…What just ha…happened?" Simon stammers.  
"You tried to kill your _saaxiibo_ ," Raphael smirks and replied. "Good taste, I suppose."  
"What?!" Simon exclaims.  
He glances behind Raphael and sees a terrified Clary Fray, in the embrace of Jace Wayland. Raphael rises from his position and turns to face them.

 

"He needs more, I can provide them back at Dumort," He says.  
"Need what? What's wrong with me?" Simon questions, his eyes overwhelmed by terror and distress.  
"I'm so sorry Simon, but I didn't have a choice. You mean the world to me," Clary painfully sobs.

Oh no oh no, a petrified Simon thinks. He comprehends the situation now. The red liquid, the searing thirst, his entombment.

 

He has become, a vampire.

 

Tremblingly, he pulls his arms into view. Two cold and pale arms stare back into his wide eyes. A drip of blood lands on his right palm, from his ajar mouth. He lifts his hand to his mouth and retracts.

 

"Blood, oh my..." Simon whispers, "Oh my…"

He tilts his head towards Clary.

"You chose this, for me?" Simon asks hesitantly, his eyes watering with blood.

 

Clary slowly steps forward, her eyes bloodshot, "I love you, Simon. I can't lose you too"

"He has to go now, _cazadores de Sombras,_ " Raphael intercepts, "Or he'll start hunting for blood."  
"No, I'm not going anywhere!" Simon shrieks, disgusted by his own existence.  
"Yeah, we'll take him back with us, Jace. Raphael is dangerous, he is sly, manipulative, cunning-"  
" _Niña bonita_ , that is very kind of you, but this newborn has to be where he belongs," Raphael states.  
"You know he's right, Clary. He is one of kind now," the blonde Shadowhunter murmurs to Clary

" _Chico_ ," Raphael speaks, placing his cold hand on Simon's bloody chest, "I can help you."

 

Warm spreads across Simon's body, theoretically impossible yet happening. In the nightlight, Raphael's face seemed angelic, an irony since he is a damned creature. His charcoal black eyes stare lightly into Simon's, making Simon blush.

 

"Well, fine," Simon surrenders, quickly dropping his head to hide his embarrassment. "Take me there."  
"Simon!" Clary attempts again

"I'll be fine, just go away."


	2. Simon's A Slave

Title: Blood Love  
Chapter 2: Simon's A Slave  
Genre: Romance/Horror/Fantasy

 

* * *

 

Hotel Dumort looks the same as before, the same place he was marked for death. Raphael leads the way in, through the main entrance and into the elevator. Up to the top and into his penthouse.

"On the timing being, _chico_ , you can stay here. I don't think the others would pass up an opportunity to kill you, properly this time," He says and gestured Simon into the room.

"Now, _reglas_ ," He firmly speaks, "Listen and follow, that's all, alright _chico_?"  
"My ability to speak Spanish is basically non-existent, mind repeating that in English?" Simon cheekily replies.  
"Don't you have an app on your little phone for that?"  
"Yeah, but I can't type it out as you speak, can I?"  
" _Sabelotodo_ "  
"Huh what was that?" Simon grins at Raphael, who glares dangerously at him.  
"You do realise that I can break your neck for this defiance, _chico_ , right?"

Simon forcefully stops his blabbering mouth, but not his playful eyes from staring at Raphael's perfect sculpted face.

"What are you staring at?"  
"Oh nothing, sorry," Simon shyly replies, dropping his head once more.

Raphael gracefully strolls to the massive King-Sized bed occupying the centre of the penthouse, and begins to undress himself.

"The Sun is rising, you have to rise," Raphael says while unbuttoning his shirt. Slipping off his shirt, he reveals a barrel-chest. His pecs were full and well defined, and his abdominals appears to have been sculpted from marble. He bents forward to undo his shoelaces, with the muscles in his back moving elegantly.

"Erm... Alright, if you say so," Simon gulps. Taking one last sinful glimpse, Simon moves silently to the couch and prepares for his first "night" as a vampire, something he still can't get his head around.

"Hey _chico_ , come to the bed."  
"You sure?"  
"Come, now," Raphael orders.

Once on the bed, Raphael hits a button on a remote control. Black curtains start shifting to cover the glass windows, the view of the ending night fades away.

Raphael adjusts his position and lays sideways, facing Simon. Simon swallows anxiously and glares at the magnificent mahogany ceiling, apprehensive to have any eye contact with Raphael. He can sense Raphael examining him, as if choosing a spot on a mundane to drain his life away.

 _I can hear you, chico_. Simon jumps in response, completely flabbergast.

"You can hear my thoughts?" He staggers.  
"And speak to you through mine," Raphael replies, while still staring at Simon.  
"Why?"  
"Because I am your Sire, for that I get to know everything about you, _chico_. I own you."  
The words vibrate in Simon's ears and his mind, and he finally turns to face Raphael.  
"What? So I am your pet?" Simon tenses.  
"Wouldn't put it that way, _chico_ , but yes. _Me perteneces_."

Simon fights the urge to shake violently with trepidation. He turns away and face the ceiling.

"So, why am I really here?"

Raphael's strong hands promptly turns Simon to face him. Simon did not resist. He stared into the dark solemn eyes of his Sire. Raphael stares for a moment at his face, and slowly moves his lips to touch Simon's. He softly combs his hand through the latter's coffee brown hair, while tenderly tackling Simon's lips with his.

As if on vertigo, Simon begins to feel a need, a desire, but not for blood.

But to pleasure his Sire, to make him happy.

For that he is willing to do anything.

Simon begins to initiate. Grasping Raphael's curly ebony hair, he kisses with more effort, using his tongue to stimulate his Sire's mouth.

" _Chico, reducir la velocidad_ , we have time," Raphael whispers. He pushes Simon down onto the latter's back, and climbs on top of him. He lowers his head towards Simon's face and nibble his right cheek, down to his jaw and nuzzles to the crook of his neck.

Simon shivers as Raphael glides his tongue alluringly along his neck before circling at a point. Simon knows what's happening next, vampire's saliva is painkiller. He clings onto the bedsheets and he felt Raphael's fangs sink into his skin. A shriek emerged from his mouth. It was pain, but pleasure at the same time. As Raphael rises, Simon senses his wound closing already. He loves the pain. He stares into Raphael's eyes.

"Again, please."

Raphael does not disappoint. After multiple healing wounds, Raphael reveals a pair of bloodstained lips.

"Come on, _chico_ , taste." And Simon obeyed, manoeuvring his tongue across his Sire's lips.

" _Buen chico…_ "

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Blame the testosterone.


	3. Disconnection

Title: Blood Love

Chapter 3: Disconnection

Genre: Romance/Horror/Fantasy

 

* * *

 

The faint snoring of Raphael wakes Simon up. It is noon. Too early for a vampire. But Simon is wide awake, recalling every single detail of the events that occurred a few hours as if they were seared into his mind.

He was horrified. He was confused.

 

 _Am I bisexual?_ Simon ponders. _Or is it the Sire Bond. Yeah, it has to be. I'm not bisexual. I'm not._

 

Swiftly putting on his tattered jeans, bloodstained T-shirt and hoodie, he cautiously slips through the gap in the slightly ajar door, silent enough not to wake the Leader of the New York Vampire Clan.

A couple of button pressings and Simon is standing at the lobby of Hotel Dumort. He watches the Sunlight penetrating the clear glass windows and settling on the exquisite carpet several metres from where he is standing.

 

 _How bad is it?_ He begins to think. Stepping bravely forward, he lifts the left hand to expose his fingertips to the rays of Heaven.

Abruptly, Simon's mind becomes hallow, then immediately saturating with pain and agony. He falls to the ground, suppressing all the torment and anguish within his mouth. Right then, he senses it. Raphael heard his mental distress and had woken up. Reluctant to be his prisoner, Simon surges towards the back exit, gripping his fingers within the palm of his left hand.

Running across the storage unit, Simon inhaled the smell of fresh blood. Overwhelmed by the deluge of thirst, he hastily shoves four blood packets into the pockets on his hoodie and makes a break for the exit.

Pulling his hood up and pressing his fists deep into his jean pockets, Simon patiently made his way back to his house. Raphael isn't foolhardy enough to gamble his immortality for the possession of Simon, the latter knows that, at least until the Sun sets. He hopes by then he figures a way out of being the personal slave of the Dracula of New York.

A couple of hops from shadows to shadows later, Simon stands across his home. After a little fidgeting to ready himself, Simon makes a wild dash across the street from the shade of a London Planetree to the shadows of the Norway maple trees surrounding his house. He slips into the comfort of his home and lies on HIS own bed. Pulling out the blood packets, he instinctively rips the packets apart and drains them of the scrumptious liquid. When his thirst no longer secludes his rationality, his actions punches him in his conscience. Sorrow and disgust gathers at Simon's throat as he cries himself into unconsciousness.

 

"Ring… Ring…" Simon's phone yells.

"Yeah…?" Simon answers, groggy from his slumper.

"Simon. Are you alright?" Clary's distinct voice comes through the other end.

"Yeah, I am. I'm trying to be."

"How was last night at Hotel Dumort?"

Shivers go down Simon's back, reminding him of the interactions he had with Raphael.

"It was… fine. I'll tell you more when we meet."

"That would be now. Luke needs our help; Maia was attacked by a Drevak demon."

"Oh my…."

"Still can't say the word?" Clary teases.

"Shut up, I'll be there."

Popping a Tic Tac into his mouth, Simon zips down the path to the Institute. Clary stands at the entrance, tapping her feet on the ground.

"Hey,"

"By the Angels! Didn't we just hang up a minute ago?" Clary exclaims, stunned but appalled.

"Vampire traits," Simon grins, exposing his fangs.

"Alright, don't need to show off. Come on in."

 

 _Chico, where are you?_ The voice of Raphael rings through Simon's head.

_Away from you, that's definite._

_Come back to Dumort. Aquí es donde usted pertenece._

_Come on, I still don't speak Spanish. Not that I would care, if I did_.

_I will find you. You are mine, te acuerdas de?_

 

"Simon, are you sure you're alright?" Clary asks with worry surrounding her furrowed brow. Simon realises that he is gripping on his head, attempting to squeeze the voices out.

"Yeah, migraine."

"Migraine, really?" Clary questions sarcastically.

"Just go in, red-head."

 

Once inside the sanctuary, Simon feels Raphael's voice fading away. The magical barriers manage to block the connection between him and his Sire. The Institute looks grandiose, as usually. It lead to disverse corridors and hallways adorned with arches. Witchlight and tapers in candelabras provide brilliance that roams through the entire compound.

Clary leads the way to the infirmary. A step in and Simon sees the massive room with a curved wooden ceiling decorated by stunning murals and numerous rows and columns of beds. And laying on one was Maia Roberts.

 

"Where's Luke?" He asks her.

"He went to move his truck, to bring me home," She replies, and sighs at the thin black needles poking out of her skin.

"Let me get you some water, alright?" Simon offers.

"Yeah, sure."

"So what is a Drevak demon anyways?" Simons questions, while turning to the jar at her bedside.

"A pest-like creature of Hell, used as spies, and possess venomous needles, like these ones."

"Ahh, I see," Simon nods, and passes her the glass of water.

"Than-" Maia stops herself, "Simon, why is your skin ice cold?"

"Because… I'm a vampire," Simon mumbles in reply.

"MONSTER!" Maia shrieks in response, "You are a parasitic demon!"

 

Simon freezes, stunned by her outrage.

"Maia, please," Simon speaks, slowly moving her hand to comfort her.

"GET AWAY!" Her right arm spins and four claws dig into Simon's face. Pain seeps into his pale cold face. He watches as his stolen blood drips like beads into his trembling hands. It was excruciating.

He rises his head to see Maia lifting her other arm to repeat.

 

"Stop!" Clary's voice fills the hall. "What are you doing?"

Simon brings his hands to face, and makes a beeline back to the exit.

"Simon!" Clary reaches out.

"It's fine, let me be."

 

He exits the Institute, and into the gloomy, chilly night.

 

"I told you I'll find you, _chico_."

 

A startled Simon spins his head around, locating the source of those words. Raphael slips out of the shadows eerily. Donning an exquisite leather jacket, he moves towards his possession. He bears his fangs, ready to punish him for his insubordination, until he catches a glimpse of Simon's face buried behind his quivering hands.

He grips his hands on Simon's wrists, and pulls them down, revealing an aghast face disfigured by four claw marks.

 

 _Hombres lobo_ , Simon hears Raphael thinks. _Werewolves._

 

He tastes Raphael's throbbing anger, he sees his proliferating rage, and he smells his cornucopian enmity. Raphael's fangs glide down from their nest, and his eyes turn bloodshot. In spite of his dangerous aggravation, Simon just sees a sulking angel, still possessing such mesmerising beauty and perfection.

 

"No, you're not going to kill her," Simon says, while desperately trying to hide his amusement.

"How dare they touch my people, let alone you!" Raphael responds, fuming and enraged.

"It was an accident,"

"Not towards my _gente_ , it was no accident," the clan leader snarls.

Simon rolls his eyes in exasperation. Suddenly, his vision fades into a daze, and he struggles to keep balance.

"You need blood for that to heal," Raphael sighs, lifting Simon up like a ragdoll.

"Please, not Dumort. Not Dumort. Not Dumor..." Simon begs before plunging into oblivion.


	4. TLC

Title: Blood Love

Chapter 4: TLC

Genre: Romance/Horror/Fantasy

 

* * *

 

“Ouch!” Simon mumbles as his head bumps his doorframe, before realising Raphael hasn’t brought him to Hotel Dumort.

“Well, not my fault that you’re so bloody long, _chico_ ,” Raphael replies with bore as he haphazardly manoeuvres Simon, “bridal carry” style, through the cluttered mess of Simon’s home.

 

With the little consciousness he struggles to cling on, Simon stares up at Raphael’s chest, his chin and his cheeks, oblivious to Raphael’s ability to hit every single furniture in the living room. Never has he been so attracted to someone, let alone a man.

“It’s the Sire Bond, Simon, it’s the fucking Sire Bond,” Simon whimpers to himself, though still maintaining his gaze into Raphael’s eyes. From this angle, they resemble two pristine stones of onyx, and seem to lead to the depths of Hell, which may not be inaccurate.

 

“What’s all this commotion?” the voice of Elaine Lewis vibrates through the house. The creaking of the wooden stairs seems to get louder by the second.

“Oh shit, that’s my mom!” Simon whispers, panicking to get out of Raphael’s steady arms.

“You are not going to last a second on your feet, _chico_.”

“But my mum-”

 

“SIMON?” Elaine shrieks, cutting Simon off, “Who is this? Why are in his arms?”

“Mom, I… I…” Simon stammers uneasily.

“ _Señorita_ ,” Raphael steps in, locking his fascinating eyes on Elaine’s. “ _Simon fell on the way home. I’m Raphael_.”

“Oh, pleasure to meet you,” she replies, adjusting her nightgown and fanatically tries to tame her unruly hair, her hazel eyes intently fixated on Raphael’s enthralling eyes.

“ _El placer es mío. Now, señorita, return to your beauty sleep. Bien?_ ” Raphael simpers.

“ _Claro, buenas noches,_ Simon, Raphael,” Elaine sheepishly replies, before making her way back to her bedroom upstairs.

 

“What was that…”

“ _Encanto, chico_. A vampire ability to mesmerize or hypnotize mundanes,” Raphael replies and tosses Simon on his dishevelled bed.

“No, not that. My mother speaks Spanish?” Simon responds, with utter astonishment.

“ _Dios mío_ , even excruciatingly agony can’t shut you up.”

 

Raphael hurls weeks’ worth of laundry from his bed across the room, and settles beside a groaning Simon, who is bleeding out onto his pillow.

“Sit up,” Raphael orders, before giving up watching Simon straining to do so. He places his right palm under the latter’s head and pulls him up, leaning his fragile body against his right shoulder.

“Drink.”

“Huh?” Simon twitches, frowning in bewilderment.

“You need my blood to heal that werewolf’s attack. Take my blood, now.”

Simon looks up at Raphael’s face, apprehensive if Dracula was serious.

 

“Why your blood?”

“Because vampires’ blood are laced with Demon Energy, makes us stronger. _Vamos_ , don’t waste my time, _chico_.” Raphael beckons Simon to his neck.

Simon examines his Sire’s smooth neck, marked by a pair of bite scars.

“Erm… Raphael,” he nervously whispers, “I can’t release my fangs…”

 

Turning to face Simon within a split second, Raphael bares his glistening, deadly fangs and hisses menacingly. Simon’s senses jump in play. His fangs smoothly glide out of his gums and his craws extends.

“There you go, _idiota_ ,” Raphael growl, “Now drink.”

 

Simon anxiously places his hands on Raphael’s shoulders, and leans towards his neck. He feels Raphael preparing himself and he places his fangs on the designated point. Exhaling a long breath, he sinks his fangs into Raphael’s neck.

He feels Raphael jolt from the bite, and feels him holding in the pain, gritting his teeth together, despite knowing that the latter is experiencing the same euphoria he is.

 

He wants to stop, he is disgusted. But the blood, so fresh, so ambrosial, so… Raphael.

As he swallows his fill, he feels his body “reviving”. The blood replenishes his undead organs, reminding them of vitality and liveliness. The gaps in face close, restoring Simon’s façade.

 

Raphael collapses forward, as Simon’s fangs slide out of his Sire’s neck. Simon flings forward to grab him by the collar of his jacket, and pulls him back to his chest. Raphael’s face losses its usual glow, shifting into a sickly shade of plaster.

 

 _Blood, he need more blood_ , Simon concludes.

 

Squirming into his kitchen, he swings the refrigerator’s doors open and pulls out four pieces of steak. He pulls out a drawer and retrieves a meat pounder and a glass jar from it. Lining up the blood-drenched fleshes, Simon lifts the pounder and clobbers them mercilessly. Soon enough, blood fills to the brink of the jar.

As he turns to Raphael’s direction, he sees Elaine standing at the door. Her eyes are forced wide open, eyebrows nearly touching her hairline, and her jaw practically dislocated.

 

“Si-Simon… What’s going on?” Elaine whispers fearfully

Paralysis sets in, as Simon’s brain frantically attempts to construct sound excuses to explain the jar of blood and pieces of flattened meat.

Elaine slowly bends forward to reach for her cell phone, keeping her distance from her son.

 

 _Oh there’s no way in hell I’m going to get out of this_ , Simon realises.

 _Encanto, chico, use the encanto_ , Raphael’s voice feebly creeps into the back of his mind.

 _No, I’m not going to use voodoo on my mother_ , Simon replies, suppressing his voice.

 

“Simon, what’s going on?,” Elaine says, as she dials several digits into her phone.

“Erm… Mom…”

“You've been acting strange recently, if you let me help you, I'm su-”

“I don’t need your help, put down the phone please.”

“No no Simon, I know this per-”

“Mom, I-”

“…she’s a great therapist, rem-”

“STOP TALKING!” Simon screams in exasperation, ruining his unstable composure. Elaine jolts backwards into a cabinet, and grips on the shelves in fear.

 

_Enchanto, I have to enchant her._

Simon peers in his mother’s coppery eyes, as he calmly walks towards her.

“ _Mom, listen to me_ ,” he starts, forcibly directing all his concentration into his words. _“Forget what you saw tonight, you had a terrible nightmare. I am fine and you don’t have to worry about me anymore,”_

Simon pauses, waiting for his mother to scream his miserable head off for attempting to hypnotise her. Instead, her face becomes blank, sets her phone on the coffee table and crawls up the stairs to her room.

 

Immediately, Simon dashes to his room to see Raphael out cold, or at least colder than he usually is. Resting his head hastily on his thighs, Simon delicately pours the blood into Raphael’s mouth. Barely a quarter of the jar gone, Raphael jumps up, his face displaying pure disgust.

“ _Dios mío, chico_. How old is this blood?” He questions, with a pair of very deeply furrowed brows.

“Do you want it or not?” Simon sighs, narrowing his eyes and gesturing the jar towards Raphael. Raphael glances at the jar, then to Simon’s eyes, before reaching forward and snatching the jar from Simon’s hands. Within seconds, Raphael hollows the jar, sipping every last drop of blood, before releasing a deafening burp.

 

“ _Gracias,_ ” Raphael mutters, lifting his head to meet his eyes.

“What was that?” Simon teases, lifting his eyebrows as close to God as he can.

“Thank you,” Raphael reluctantly repeats.

“Hey, thanks to you, I don’t need plastic surgery and a second revival. So… _gracias_ ,” Simon grins.

Raphael smirks, clearly amused. He slowly settles himself on the bed, and comfortably nestles his head in a fluffy pillow. He waves his hands, signalling Simon to join him.

“We’re not doing anything tonight, alright?” Simon firmly states.

“Wasn’t planning to, _chico_ ,” Simon replies.

“And enough with _chico_ please.”

“Just get in.”

 

Simon and Raphael lie side by side, staring at stickers Simon had stuck on the ceiling when he was a child.

“So…” Simon initiates, “How old were you when you were turned?”

“I was 15.”

“What? You look like you’re 20!” Simon blurts.

“Puberty came early for me. But… the main cause was the exhaustion of my Demon Energy,” Raphael reveals, “I overextended myself in the early years of being a vampire, resulting in a physical burden on my body.” He turns to look at Simon. “That is also why I can only transfer Demon Energy by the little traces still remaining in my blood.”

 

“This is the only time I’m going to tell anymore. Let it get out, _chico_ , and I’ll promise you an interesting second death.” Raphael warns.

“Woah, we were about to achieve a normal conversation and you had to ruin it with a death threat,” Simon rolls his eyes.

“I’m serious, _chico_. The New York Clan would not be pleased to know that their leader cannot summon Demon Energy. An _inútil_ leader.”

 

“Yeah yeah alright, O Great Dracula of New York.”

Both stare at each other, and break into uncontrollable fits of laughter that echo through the cool, silent night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still hungry


	5. Conflict and Capture

Title: Blood Love

Chapter 5: Conflict and Capture

Genre: Romance/Horror/Fantasy

 

* * *

 

Simon wakes up to Elaine’s hastened locking of the front door as she rushes to work. He listens to Blue Jays sing from the branches of the maple trees outside his windows, before seeing the Sun’s rays creeping up his bed.

“Oh no, oh no, oh no,” Simon rumbles as he frantically stretches to grasp the drawstrings for the blinds, muffling the Sun’s blaze.

 

Heaving a sigh of relief, he turns to his side and sees Raphael stirring from his slumber. He simpers heartily, reminiscing the fuzzy conservations they had. He lies back on the bed, facing the dazed Raphael.

“Wh…what time is it, _chico_?” Raphael rumbles, squinting his eyes.

“Erm…” Simon utters, searching for his alarm clock, “It’s 8.03am.”

“Well that’s way too _pronto_. Didn’t we just sleep 3 hours ago?”

“Yeah, we did,” Simon snickers. He puts down the clock and darts his eye into Raphael’s. In the diffused light, they appear like sunlight through whiskey. He ruffles his hand through his Sire’s unruly obsidian hair and caresses his honey-coloured neck.

Raphael smirks, “Oh so now, you’re interested huh?” Simon rolls his eyes, and lends forward to connect his soft lips with Raphael’s. Raphael reciprocates, embracing Simon within his arms.

“Raphael,” Simon whispers, halting the osculation, “I think…I’m…falling in love with you.”

He feels Raphael release his grip from his body, and he repels himself from Simon, with a puzzled expression on his perplexed face.

 

“ _Perdone?_ What did you say?” Raphael askes, ejecting himself from Simon’s bed.

“I said,” Simon stammers, “I’m falling for you.”

Raphael takes an unneeded breath, undoubtedly fazed by Simon’s statement.

“No, Simon, you cannot love me.”

“Why not?”

“ _Tu quieres amor?_ Go love your little Shadowhunter friend instead,” Raphael replies.

“What? Why would you sleep with me then?” Simon piques.

“Because you are mine, and I can do anything I want!” Raphael roars in return.

 

Simon lets out a disdainful huff, his hands quivering with infuriation.

“You are a piece of sh-” Simon shouts, before stopping himself as he notices a distraught Maia shuffling along the pavement leading to his house, soon approaching his front lawn.

“We’ll discuss this when I come back,” he says, scrambling around as he searches for his hoodie.

“ _Dios mío_ , there’s nothing to discuss, _chico_ ,” Raphael whines, much to Simon’s annoyance.

“Just stay put.” Simon articulates. Raphael glares at him, before exhaling and grudgingly reclining into Simon’s bed.

 

Speedily putting on his hoodie and ensuring no exposed skin, Simon opens the front door.

“SIMON!” He instantly hears Maia scream. He impulsively lifts his head, and sees her scuffling in the arms of a tall blonde man. His face is handsome but harsh, with dark smouldering eyes, a hard pointed chin, and appears to be in his late thirties. Around him are two men dressed like him, in black suits, carrying seraph blades.

“Simon, run!” Maia shrieks, and Simon realises who that man is.

 

Valentine.

 

“Ah, a vampire. Another perfect example of an abomination. Take him too,” Valentine orders, almost melodically. The two men promptly sprints towards a stunned Simon and forcibly tackles him to the ground.

“Ah ah, be careful, I need him alive, at least till tomorrow,” Valentine emphasises.

“Let me go!” Simon exclaims, struggling to escape the grip of the two rogue Shadowhunters. He grits his teeth together, in a desperate attempt to force his fangs out. As he realises his efforts are in vain, he looks up at the horrified werewolf, who is brawling her eyes out.

“I’m so sorry Maia, I’m so s-” He is interrupted as the bastards drag him across his front lawn to a black SUV parked along the pavement.

 

“Raphael!” He reluctantly screeches, before one of Valentine’s men gags him and tosses him and Maia into the passenger seats.

_No, no, no, no, this can’t be happening. Raphael, Raphael!_

The car starts, and Simon fearfully turns to take a final look. He sees Raphael bolting to the front lawn, howling as his skin begin to steam.

 

“SIMON!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No idea where I'm going with this. However, I'm still incredibly hungry


	6. Sacrificial Ritual

Title: Blood Love

Chapter 6: Sacrificial Ritual

Genre: Romance/Horror/Fantasy

 

* * *

 

Raphael’s voice continues to resonate throughout Simon’s head as the car whisks down the expressway. Gradually slowing his heavy panting, he composes himself and centralises his attention on Raphael.

 _Raphael, Raphael._ He mentally calls out.

 

Nothing.

 

 _Oh shit. Is the signal bad? I knew I should have switched to Verizon._ Simon facetiously ponders.

He peers around the car and notices that all the windows are decorated with glowing runes, with a specific one being the majority.

_That must be it._ Simon surmises. He turns to face Maia; whose bloodshot eyes stare distressingly into his. One of Valentine’s men sits between them, his seraph blade ready in the event either of them decides to challenge him.

 

Before long, the car pulls up in front of pier of the East River. Docked at the pier is a magnificent cruise ship, and on board is an army of similarly dressed rogue Shadowhunters, armed with glowing seraph blades, axes, and other bizarre weapons.

“Wow, how inviting…” Simon mumbles, as the Valentine’s men harshly nudges him out of the car. A myriad of endless corridors and lavish halls later, they arrive in front of a storage room.

“Get it,” One man orders.

“Dude, a million cruise cabins and we end up at the storeroom?” Simon sulks. Valentine’s men swiftly lift their blades, pressing them menacingly into his hoodie.

“Woah woah, alright the storeroom’s fine,” He shrugs. The men hurl him and Maia into the room, slamming the door behind them. Simon stares at the meagre light peeking through the narrow opening at the bottom of the door, while Valentine’s men lock and secure the room.

 

He settles a shivering Maia into a makeshift couch on cardboard boxes and nestles himself beside her. As Maia lifts her arm to rub her inflamed eyes, Simon reflexively raises his arms to cover his face.

“Oh my, I’m so sorry Simon,” Maia whispers, with hot, salty tears flooding her cheeks and dripping off her chin.

“Hey hey, I don’t blame you, alright?” Simon says, placing his hand on Maia’s.

“But now you are here, because of me…”

“Well I’m quite desirable,” Simon smirks

“Shut up,” Maia nudges, smiling under her curly, golden-brown hair. She directs her amber eyes into Simon’s face, and gently brushes the fading scratch marks.

 

“I didn’t mean to do this, Simon. It’s just…” She pauses and exhales, “One night a while ago, I was hanging out at a park with some other werewolves, when we bumped into a group of vampires who were sucking on blood bags under a bridge.”

Halting, Maia buries her face into her hands.

“Hey, you don’t have to talk about it when you don’t want to,” Simon comforts, allowing her to lean on him for support.

“No Simon, you deserve to know,” Maia responds, “The vampires confronted us, and a fight broke up. In the midst of it all, the vampires killed one of my friend, Gregg, and ripped him in half. To make it worse, they ate him till his insides fell out.” She looks up into Simon’s eyes, “That’s why I hated vampires ever since.”

 

Simon processes Maia’s narration, and places his arm around her, “I’m not like that, and I promise you, I never will be.”

“That’s why I’m sorry, Simon,” she says, “Sorry for seeing you as one of them, and sorry for giving you those scratches. I heard that they would be hard to heal, especially for a vampire.”

“Yeah they were,” Simon cheekily admits, “But Raphael helped me, with vampire blood and Demon Energy.”

“Ah I see, bu.. but, who’s Raphael?”

“Erm… he’s my Sire.” Simon responds.

“And he so happens to be in your house?” Maia teases sassily.

“Who said he was in my house?” He questions defensively.

“Come on Simon, I heard you call out for him,” Maia rolls her eyes, “Are you two dating?”

Simon releases a mournful sigh, “I don’t know. I told him I liked him, and he told me to like someone else.”

“Ouch,” Maia mutters, patting the vampire on his back. “Well, if he doesn’t want to be by your side, I will. Not that I have a choice now.”

Simon sneers, while his mind continues to wonder about his complicated Sire.

 

 _Chico, chico._ Raphael’s voice abruptly emerges at the back of Simon’s head. He immediately sits up, much to Maia’s astonishment.

 _Raphael!_ He calls out.

 _Where are you? You seem off shore, I can’t locate you, chico,_ Raphael says.

 _I’m on a ship at the East River, I don’t know why I’m here, but I don’t know if I’m going to live after today._ Simon concedes.

 _Hey, chico, cállate. I will find you, and retrieve you._ Raphael firmly promises.

 _Well if you do, you owe me a discussion_ , Simon grins, hoping that his expressions can be send through the Sire Bond.

Silence roams his mind for a few seconds. Then he hears Raphael reply _Que te jodan_.

 

“Uh… Simon?” Maia askes.

“Erm… sorry yeah?” Simon answers as he shakes out of disorientation.

“Sorry yeah?” Maia imitates, “Your grin was almost as terrifying as the Joker’s. You were talking to him huh?”

“What? N…, how is that even possi… you ca… yeah. Yeah I was.” Simon hesitantly admits. Staring at the embarrassed Simon, the corners of Maia’s mouth tilts upwards slightly, straining to conceal her mirth.

“Oh, shut up.”

 

* * *

 

“Well, well, well, what do we have here?” Valentine’s eerie voice, violently pulling Simon’s consciousness back from his short-lived slumber. Maia readjusts herself on Simon’s shoulder, her eyes squinting as the harsh corridor lights hit her face.

“Mortal enemies, lying side by side. How…interesting,” Valentine mocks, “Go!” Two men spring into action, both clasping on each of Simon’s arms. Instantly, Maia lets out an aggressive howl. Her skin begins shifting and her fingernails gradually morphing into claws.

“Ah ah, not so fast,’ Valentine sneers, swiftly tossing a pack of silver powder. Vociferous shrieking follows. Her eyes are force wide with horror, her mouth rigid and open, and her chalky face gaunt and immobile. Clenching her fists with blanched knuckles, her claws dig deeply into her palms.

“I’ll take care of you later, sweetheart,” Valentine rotates to face Simon, “Give it to me.” One man enters the room, and sets a long wooden case on the ground. Valentine bends forward and unlocks the case, revealing an enormous silver sword, with an intricate design of outspread wings, emerging from the point where blade meets handle.

“The Mortal Sword, magnificent isn’t it?”

“Yes, yes it is.” Simon shudders.

“The Infernal Conversion, you know what that is?”

“A ritual that awakens the power of the Mortal Sword,” Simon nervously stammers.

“Yes, and it requires the blood of four slain Downworlder children,” Valentine discloses. Clutching the Mortal Sword on one hand, he strides towards Simon, watching him squirm fearfully in the grip of his men.

“Well, try not to move.” Valentine smiles sadistically, and lifts the sword to Simon’s neck.

“No, no, no, please, n-” Simon pleads before the adamas sword cut into his neck. Excruciating pain sears into his neck. He feels blood rapidly leave his body through the cut, generously bathing the sword, as he lets out inaudible agonising screams. His senses cripples, and his strength gradually diminishes. At the edge of his attention, he hazily hears Maia yelling out his name. Resigning to his imminent demise, he relives the last memory of Raphael.

 

_Raphael. I’ll see you in Hell._

Simon collapses to the ground, with his last bit of consciousness hooking on the edge of existence.

“Now you, darling,” Valentine says, with malevolence blazing in his eyes. Maia shuffles backwards, her heartbeat mirroring the thrumming wings of a caged bird.

“Sir,” A man walks in, “The prisoners have escaped.”

“I want them alive, and take the werewolf,” He orders, “Now!” Two men promptly pick up the resistant Maia and carry her, while Valentine and the rest dart out of the room into the corridors.

 

_Raphael… Raphael… Raph…_

He stares frailly at the door, and fights to keep them open. His persistence starts to fail him and his vision progressively narrows.

 

 _This is it._ Simon concedes.

 

He reluctantly resigns to his dreadful fate, and closes his weary eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Close to nothing with Saphael, but it fits with the timeline of the series. This is not the end of BLood Love, so don't go all crazy


	7. Recovery

Title: Blood Love

Chapter 7: Recovery

Genre: Romance/Horror/Fantasy

 

* * *

 

“Simon!” The voice of Raphael singes Simon’s eardrums. Footsteps echo down the corridor, continuously increasing in decibels till they stop in front of the door.

“By the Angels, Simon!” Clary’s voice tails. His rescuers surge forward towards him, anxiously examining his wound.

“His blood has been drained,” Raphael says, “It was for the Ritual.”

“Can you give him some blood?” Clary shakily pleads.

“That would be of no use,” Raphael sighs, “He has been touched by Heaven, and only by Heaven’s blood can he be healed.”

“Take my blood,” Jace's voice emerges.

“Jace, no. He can take mi-” Clary begins arguing.

“You need to find Maia; Valentine is going to take her blood too,” Jace interrupts, “Go!” Clary reluctantly shuffles out of the door, and dashes down the corridor.

“So, what do I have to do?” Jace questions. The unsheathing of fangs pursues, and an unpleasant “Ouch!” follows.

“In his mouth, now.”

 

Blood rains into Simon’s throat. The blood tastes extraordinarily celestial and luscious. As vitality returns to his body, the wicked gash on his neck vanishes without a trace. His eyes flutter open, and before him is a dishevelled Jace clenching his fist, and a relieved Raphael.

 

“Thanks, for your blood. Yummy,” Simon sits up, and glances at Dracula. “Can we have that discussion now?” Raphael lends forward, preparing the perfect retaliation.

“All that can wait,” Jace intervenes, “Right now, we got to go. And by the way, you got a Band-Aid?”

Ambling down ceaseless corridors, their growing impatience begin to seize control of their judgement.

“If I see another corridor after this corner…” Simon admonishes, “I swear I’ll kil- AH!”

“Woah, Simon!” Clary and Maia emerge from the corner, rushing forward to embrace him.

“Oh thank god, I thought you were dead!” Maia sobs.

“Nah, not that easy,” Simon assures, squeezing Maia and Clary into his ribs.

“Stop them!” The tympanic rhythm of Valentine’s men stomping against the floorboard approaches.

“Move, move, now!” Raphael turns, pulling Simon along him. The party promptly turns in the opposite direction, making mad dashes down each corridor of every turn.

As they approach a wall, embellished with sophisticated angelic murals. A dead end. The thudding behind them reverberates through the corridors. Raphael steps in front of Simon defensively, unleashing his glinting fangs. Maia’s body shivers, her olive skin steadily metamorphosing in a wolf’s. Jace instinctively lifts his trusty seraph blade, preparing for a bloodbath.

 

Clary, instead, pulls out her stele from her pocket and begins carving an enlarged rune into the wall. The moment she finalises her masterpiece, the rune glows blindingly. Two vertical fissures emerge from the rune, dividing the wall and everything beyond. The chilly nocturnal air rushes into the ship, and the ship groans as it begins to crumble.

They hear a storey abruptly collapsing beneath them, forcefully thrusting them in the freezing estuary waters. The water begins numbing Simon's limbs, and he profusely shivers to keep warm, something he didn't know he still requires. Treading water to keep his head above surface, he almost believes his unanticipated luck, before Clary snatches it away.

“The Sun, it’s rising!” Clary shouts. He stares at edge of the world, seeing a soft glowing light in the sky, mirroring the Sun's rays under the horizon. Twilight. A brief calculation tells him that he has approximately ten minutes before the Sun’s radiance obliterates him and Raphael. He swings his head around, and sees Raphael peering at the skyline, before his eyes meet with the latter’s.

“Ten minutes,” Both warn at the same time. The two vampires promptly paddle strenuously towards store, with the others following behind them. With the sky’s illumination accelerating by the second, Simon feels his anxiety growing along with it, and he undoubtedly senses Raphael’s panic building up simultaneously. After what seems like an eternity, the current finally assists them by propeling them to the bottom of the pier.

 

“It’s too high, we will never make it in time,” Simon realises. Beside him, Raphael unnecessarily insufflates, perilously eyeing the deadly horizon. Behind them, Jace pushes forward through the icy water to grab a pole. Taking out his stele, he engraves a rune on his left forearm.

The rune brilliantly glows, and a purse shudders through Jace’s body.

“Get ready,” Jace says, before tossing Raphael out of the water and up to shore.

“Wow! What rune was that?” Simon exclaims in amazement.

“Strength, now your turn,” Simon braces himself, and immediately he is lifted into the air and docks on land. The tip of the Sun gradually materialises at the horizon, its lethal rays bringing life to the city. His eyes desperately scan the area for the nearest shelter, realising that there is none within reach.

 

Simon turns his back to the Sun, kneeling in front of Raphael.

“You owe me a discussion,” He smirks, heaving his millionth sigh of the day. Raphael looks at his brown eyes, and laughs without fear of the future.

“Bring it on, _chico_ ,” Raphael cheekily challenges.

“Would you like to go on a date, someday?” Simon nervously asks. An intense eye contact follows briefly, ending promptly as Raphael leans forward, pressing his lips against Simon’s.

“ _Chico_ , _me encantaría_ , I’d love to.” Simon wraps his arms around Raphael and screws his eyes shut, awaiting their inevitable deaths.

**Author's Note:**

> I've never actually read the Mortal Instruments books, just watched the movie and the TV series.
> 
> P.S. I don't speak Spanish, just some simple translations via Google Translate and several other English-Spanish translating sites


End file.
